The trip to Kiribas is Mum’s cool idea. When it’s finally decided, I feel okay ’cause I’ll be able to hook up with family and friends. Mum flies off two weeks before me, with Liam and Hannah. Liam is gonna propose to Hannah. We warn them it isn’t going to be like Fiji or Hawaii, that it’s really basic. The family will look after them, and entertain them … so they’ll be sweet.
I finally get to Kiribas, and the family collects me in the truck. It’s later that I find out Mum arranged with my uncle, Koraubara, to take a trip to the outer island of Maiana. I don’t know anything about that. They want to take the guests somewhere remote, where they can eat island food, and taste the lobsters. This doesn’t sound too good, because I already organised to be in Tarawa, the capital. Most of the family live in the capital. Maiana isn’t my home island. My aunt married Koraubara from Maiana Island. I’ve never been to Maiana. I’ve travelled to other islands, but never to Maiana. Mum’s excited about going, and keeps sayin’, “Come on, Ben, everything’ll be different. You’ll be in the fresh air, visiting somewhere remote.”
In a way I want to take it on, ’cause when you go to an island like Maiana, you know it’ll be natural: no power, very remote, with no fridges, none of the modern trimmings. But what’s gonna happen to the plans I made with my mates in the capital? These are guys I grew up with, and there’s an ex-girlfriend I had a baby with, and cousins and so forth. Why did I purchase all that duty-free grog? They all want me to party on Tarawa, plus my aunt, Tiene, the young one, where I usually stay, she’s sayin, “You’re supposed to stay with us. Who organised this trip to the outer island, anyway?”
My aunt is pretty pissed off.
“You should be with us, not tripping to the outer islands.”
“Will you calm down,” my mum says. “We’ll be back in a couple of days. We can even fly back to Tarawa, if necessary.”
I’m sayin’ under my breath, “Yeah, for sure, I’ll be out of Maiana like a shot. I’ll be back in Tarawa before New Year.”
We have to organise the transport. Mum and her guests have hired a wooden boat to take them there. We’re supposed to leave Tarawa at the same time, but we have to wait for the tide. There’s another boat arranged for us; we have to take the supplies. We’re to leave about lunchtime. I’m uncertain how Taea and my uncle became involved. I only know we’re goin’ in another boat. Maybe it’s because we’re tougher and younger, and my uncle is experienced enough to handle a small tinnie. The fellers on the big wooden boat, maybe they can’t carry so many people; the more weight, the slower the engine. They just say to us, “You boys will be goin’ in the tinnie.” Anyway, we go hunting for the tinnie the same night. We’re goin’ in a tinnie , and that’s it. You have to respect your elders, and go along with the flow. That’s the way of things in Kiribas; you get swept up in things you don’t particularly want to do. It turns out we’re for the tinnie ’cause they don’t want to carry more than six passengers on the wooden boat. The boat owners are greedy; they plan to fish on the way back. They even put on an extra man, and there’s Mum and her guests.
When I first see the tinnie, I think to myself, “Oh, yeah?”
Passenger number four is a guy named Kanaberu; he’s married to a woman from another branch of the family. Kanaberu is what you call a cool dude, and funny with it, but he doesn’t speak much English. My uncle and Taea speak it a little.
Maiana is forty kilometres away. We take cooking supplies, rice and herbs, and stuff like that. I’m only staying two or three nights, and then I’ll be back to Tarawa. I don’t care how, but I’m sure as hell comin’ back. That’s the way it works, I’m in the tinnie, and everything is flowin’. If all else fails, I can catch the plane from Maiana.
On the way, Kanaberu, the funny guy, announces, “I might hop off, and hitch a ride on the wooden boat comin’ back.” Kanaberu is older, maybe thirty something. He’s a very funny guy, easy goin’, an’ he makes you laugh. Salt water splashes everywhere while he tries to light his cigarette. That’s all he wants to do, light his smoke. He’s a real character. He explains why he won’t be comin’ all the way to the island. I guessed it right; it’s because he’s been playin up. His original idea is to go to the island and look for a new missus. He’s wearing a heavy boiler suit in the tropical heat. I ask him why.
“I don’t want to get any darker, man, or the white chicks’ll stop comin’ onto me!”
We meet the wooden boat coming back, about halfway to Maiana. We have to haul up, ’cause Kanaberu is waving ’em down. He’s goin’ to swim across to it, and head back for Tarawa. I say to him, “Man, you have to be crazy! The water round here is full of sharks.” But he dives in anyway, swims across in his boiler suit, and climbs aboard the wooden boat.
We finally reach Maiana. The family is on the point of freakin’ out, ’cause the sun’s goin’ down, and it’s gettin’ dark. We’re about two hours behind. We haul up near the beach, and they’re all waiting, Koraubara’s side of the family. There are fourteen people living in one house, plus another three doors up; they just move back an’ forwards. There are about three thousand people living on the Island. This is where I’m gonna be camped for the next few days. Then, all things being equal, I’ll be back on my own mattress in Tarawa, safe in my own space.
We wake next morning buggered, but eager to go fishing. We get some live bait from a creek up the road, and set out to fish as the tide comes in. And we catch a shit load. Then it’s spear fishing out on the reef, in the tinnie. We have homemade spear guns, the bicycle type, using inner tubes. Bike rubber. The spears are sharpened steel rods. This is the life – bein’ out here and fishin’, an’ all that. We have a ball, goin’ after trevally. We attach the flies, and we just cruise along, slow. We hook onto some good trevally, which is a fighting fish. You certainly know when you’ve hit one. We turn back for the shore, ’cause, normally, you’re buggered after fishing. We dump the fish, and the women gut them. We kick back, drinking glasses of tea. By now the fish are cooked, and we all sit around, havin’ a slap-up feast. The conversation goes pretty much all over the place, like, how are things in Australia, and this’n that. They’re curious about me, and what I do.
“The food, what’s the food like?”
“Look at you; you’re so white!”
We ask questions like, what’s in this food, and what’s in that? It can get pretty intense, too, ’cause, like, you have to be quiet and calm; you can’t just finish and get up, go about your own business. They want to talk to you; the old folks want to talk. I’m beginning to feel a little frustrated. I think about bein’ back in the capital, catching up on my mates. That’s where a young feller deserves to be, back in the capital, hopping in a fast car, and playing up. I’ll pick my mates up in the afternoon; stick ’em on the truck. We’ll end up in a nightclub called The Nightspot, or at The Royal, which is owned by an Aussie. My mates will want to borrow my clothes, and wear my shoes. When you sleep, they creep in an’ lift your gear. You can always track down who has it, ’cause it’s a small island.
Next day Mum and her guests go pippy-hunting; Pippies are like little oysters, and they’re good to eat, if you like that kind of thing. Then they go sea worming while we take off in the boat again to do some more spear fishing. Every day, you have to go fishing ’cause there are no fridges on the island.
It’s coming up to the time for leaving. We feel the wind, living so close to the water. We’re sayin’, “Jeez, I hope it doesn’t go carryin’ on like that!” We’re held up, ’cause the weather isn’t improving at all. It gets me nervous, like, “What’s goin’ on?” I want to be in Tarawa before New Year’s Day. They’re sayin, “Ah, it looks a bit risky,” and I have to agree, “Yeah, it looks like it.” My mother says, “Don’t worry, tomorrow there’s a plane coming.” Planes fly in normally twice a week. My uncle says, “No worries. We’ll go back in the boat when it’s calm. Soon as the weather takes up, we can shoot off.” So we just sit around, playin’ cards and watchin’ the ocean, which is really rough.
Next day arrives, and it’s the same rough sea, and the wind is picking up. I say to my uncle, “It’s not gonna calm down, is it?”
“Nah. Better if you organise yourself, and get someone to drop you off at the plane, hop on the plane, and it’ll drop you off in the capital.”
“Yeah. No worries, I’ll do that.”
Taea is listenin’ in, ear-droppin’. He comes over to me later, and says, “I’m thinking about coming too. If you’re going to fly in, I’ll go with you.”
Taea has heard my conversation with Koraubara, about me goin’ back. He knows I have a load of grog, and that I intend catching up with the mates. I can’t believe this guy; he really wants to come. He even says to me, “If you pay my fare, I’ll fix you up when we get back to the capital.” The fare’s only fifty bucks. I’m not worried about fifty bucks, but I am worried about who’ll go back with Uncle in the tinnie.
“I’m comin’, if you’re goin’.”
I start getting angry. My friends are asking me, “What are you going to do, fly off?”
“Well, Taea wants to come.”
“Don’t worry about him!”
“I can’t handle it. He’ll get sour.” What I say next is gonna make a whole world of difference. “Ah, well, it’s only ten o’clock in the mornin’. Let’s wait, and see what the weather does.”
The weather starts looking a little better. The water’s at low tide, so you can’t really carry a boat all that way out. The weather isn’t good, and the plane’s already gone. Mum says to me, “What are you going to do, Ben?”
“I don’t know. I’m f—k’n stuck here! I can’t plan anything.
I want to be with my friends, but now it’s all messed up.” Tears are comin’ outa my eyes. “What am I goin’ to do? I’m stuck here!”
I’ve only got two weeks off work and it cost me a heap of cash to get here. I can feel time slipping away and soon I’ll be back to the old routine in Tennant Creek.
I take off for a walk to the end of the island. It’s a bit crazy, but then I’m not thinkin’ too straight. They’ll probably try to find me, but maybe they won’t. I’m pretty bloody angry, and I’m not supposed to be walking in this area. I’m so worked up I don’t give a shit. I just sit there and watch the ocean.
After a while I head back, but I have the shits for everyone. After having something to eat, I say, “Stuff it, I’m gonna get drunk!” I get with one of the locals, and we buy a packet of yeast and four kilos of sugar. Then I grab hold of a couple of cousins. They say, “Yeah, we’re comin’ too, we’ll get on the piss!” The thing is, you’re not supposed to do it – drink on the island. People go crazy; they can’t handle the drink. This is breaking with the rules. We end up going into the scrub after dinner, and start making home brew. It takes about four hours, and we end up getting drunk, and heaps of people turn up, and they start drinking and takin’ over the show. That’s when we know the shit’s gonna hit the fan; they’ll start fighting, and that’s when you get bashed. Then you have to pay a fine, and get yourself kicked off the island. So we take off; go back, and they’re all watching a movie. I watch for a bit, but the neighbour’s daughter is a whole lot more interesting. I know her. She’s a girl I met on Tarawa. I ask my cousin to put a word in for me. He goes and tells her to meet me in a few minutes, round the corner, where the church is. We start to hook up, and things get happening. She tells me she has to go home first, ’cause her mum is coming back. She wants me to wait a while, and then she’ll come around, and give me a whistle. I wait and get the whistle, and we go to a beach house, where we start kissin’ and carryin’ on. Out of the blue, her father suddenly turns up. He’s supposed to be at a place where they’re drinking kava, but he arrives home early. His motorcycle light is on high beam, and it’s shinin’ right on us. She says, “Quick, run!” Doing this kind of thing on Maiana is pretty bad, if you’re not married, but I take off along the beach for a few hundred metres. Soon, everybody knows what’s been goin’ down, and they abuse me, and say I’ve brought shame on the family, and so forth. I’m crooked on myself, and end up stayin’ at Koraubara’s father’s place, about six doors along the road. I stay there with Pop, and then come back the next day.
They’re sayin’, “I think we’ll be goin’ today.”
I say, “Oh yeah, please get me out of here!” We start getting dressed and packing. I’m wearing three-quarter jeans and a black T-shirt. There’s another white shirt in my backpack. In go my toiletries, my toothbrush and toothpaste, after-shave, cologne and some packets of chewing gum. I can’t quite believe it’s all happening. The sea has calmed down a fraction, but the weather’s not so different from yesterday. We wait for high tide to come in, and we gather our things together. The fishing gear we used a couple of days back is still aboard the boat. We grab a couple of bunches of bananas, and two litres of water; that’s about all we need. We have to walk out a stretch, ’cause it’s low tide, and we have to carry the engine. We hook it up, and off we go.